


Rough Song

by ronsparkyspeirs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronsparkyspeirs/pseuds/ronsparkyspeirs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl meets Beth and they're happy... for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. drank a memory of her face

**Author's Note:**

> i have an idea of where this is gonna end up but nothing's set in stone yet. also, just to clarify, any italicized text is meant to be Daryl remembering.

_He loves her. He loves her. He Loves Her. **Christ, he loves her**._

_He traces the ridges of her spine with his calloused fingers, she makes a soft sleepy sound and it makes him smile. Her skin is so perfect and clean and smooth, a dusting of light blonde hair covers the nape of her neck and it's baby soft._

_"Daryl," she groans, voice muffled by the pillow beneath her cheek, "go back to sleep."_

_He stifles a laugh at her annoyance, "Nah."_

_Bleary eyes open and there's gunk in the corner of her eyes but she's never been more beautiful, “It's rude to stare while someone's sleeping.”_

_“Don't care.”_

_Beth rolls to her back and she's so goddamned beautiful that Daryl thinks he might go blind, she's effulgent, and he almost laughs because what kind of pansy word is that. But the week before Beth had given him one of those little calendars, with the word of the day; she didn't think he was dumb, in fact, she knew that he would have a certain appreciation for the gift. Daryl had always had a fascination with words, even though he wasn't so good at using them sometimes._

_But she's radiating beauty, his girl. Lit up by the sunlight outside, blonde hair shining like spun gold, and eyes sparkling like the sea. He wants to keep her there forever._

_“I love you,” he whispers, nuzzling at her neck._

_Beth rakes her fingers through his hair, caresses his scalp and presses him closer, “I love you too.”_

He waves the bartender over, asks for a shot of whiskey and tries to pretend that he was never in love with that girl.

 

There's a middle aged redhead by the jukebox that's been trying to get his attention for the past thirty minutes and Daryl thinks that she might turn out to be the perfect distraction. He lights up a cigarette and turns around in his stool, the redhead smirks and Daryl doesn’t even try to acknowledge her, he simply stands up and walks to the dingy bathroom at the back of the bar. He knows she’ll follow and so he doesn’t turn around when he feels her at his back, just grabs her by the arm and pushes her inside the dimly lit restroom.

 

She lets out a gasp, but she ain’t scared, this woman’s known hard living and she ain’t gonna be frightened off by a little rough. Daryl pushes her forward, flicks his cigarette somewhere in the near vicinity of the toilet then lifts her denim skirt up and pushes her against the shut door, he doesn’t want to see her face. He undoes his belt, unzips his jeans and takes himself out, gets a condom from his wallet and puts it on, he doesn’t check to see if the woman’s wet, just slides himself straight in. She lets out a whimper but Daryl’s not worried about anyone listening, the bar was almost packed, as it is every Saturday night, but still he slaps a palm across her mouth, she looks like a talker and he doesn't wanna listen to any shit tonight. She moans even louder and Daryl speeds up, he can feel his balls tightening, feel the prickle of heat in his lower back; he’s thrusting so hard that he knows she must be hurting, but the redhead just arches her back even further, lets him pound her into the door.

 

With a grunt, he’s coming, harsh breaths that sound unbearably loud in the cramped bathroom. She smells like cheap perfume, and in the flourescent light of the room he can see the lines around her eyes, caked with makeup. He almost laughs because who the fuck is he to be judging this stranger? Hell, he’s got more than enough lines on his face too, pushing fifty and fucking lonely women in run down bars, he’s pathetic.

 

She pulls up her underwear and straightens her skirt, she doesn’t look at him as she leaves and he’s grateful for that. Daryl washes his hands and throws some water on his face, he has a decision to make, he can either go home and try to fall asleep in his moldy apartment or he can go back out and get shit-faced, and then try to make his way home. First is safer but the memory of a pretty blonde is especially loud tonight so with set determination he walks back into the crowded room and makes his way toward bar.

 

Later he’ll think about fate, about how someone as lovely as her would turn up in this shit hole. He’ll cry a little when he thinks of her, of her pretty smile and shiny hair, he’ll feel like shit and wonder why he didn’t ask her to stay that night. But right now, right now all he does is stop breathing.

 

He thinks he might pass out the moment he lays eyes on her, but in reality nothing really happens. The world doesn’t stop spinning, the room doesn’t transition into slow motion like in the movies, the sea of people don’t part so he can make his way towards her; she simply tilts her head and then her eyes are on him. Bright blue and big just like he remembers, eyes like bambi, he used to say, and she’d giggle and blush because he was never really the type to say shit like that, but for her he would. For her, he would have given up his life if she had asked him to. But he feels rooted to spot and doesn’t know if he should go over and say something, she looks like she’s by herself but she could be waiting for someone, a boyfriend, her husband.

 

And like always, she takes the decision right out of his hands. Beth stands gracefully from the bar stool and walks over to him.

 

“Hi,” she says, and gives him a sad smile.

 

He can’t say anything, he just stares and stares and wishes he could turn back time.  

 

“Daryl?”

 

“Uh-- hey,” he stutters, and all of a sudden he feels very self conscious. Did she see him go into that bathroom with the redhead? Christ, he’s been wearing the same wife beater for the past two days, there’s mud on his boots and his hair is just as long and messy as it was the last time she saw him.

 

“Are you here alone?” she asks, she’s being polite but something about the way she’s talking to him cuts like a fucking knife, like he’s just some acquaintance, almost a stranger. But then again, he deserves it doesn’t he, he don’t got any rights with her as far as he’s concerned; gave them up nearly a decade ago.

 

He nods and his eyes find the door, he’s always been a runner.

 

“You still don’t got a cellphone?” she asks, and Daryl’s palms start getting sweaty because if she wants to see him, if she wants to talk, he doesn’t know if he can take it.

 

“Yeah,” he responds, and takes out the old, clunky flip phone the guy at the cell phone store had been reluctant to sell him.

 

Beth gives him a tiny little grin and takes the phone from his hand, her fingers brush his palm and he can’t believe this sweet girl was once his. She starts typing and fiddling with the keys, he’s not too interested in what she does as long as he can keep looking at her.

 

“There,” she says, and gives him back the phone, “I called myself so my number’s in your cell… But um, we should get together soon. I had no idea you were back in town.”

 

Daryl swallows past the sudden dryness in his throat, “Yeah,” he rasps, because that’s the polite thing to do in this situation right?

 

“It was good seeing you,” Beth tells him, and before he can come up with a response, she’s sliding past him, he loses her in the throng of people, but he doesn’t try to see who she was with. Daryl takes his keys out and leaves the bar, and he drives back to his empty, shitty apartment.

 

It’s not till he’s closing the door behind him that he lets out a sob, his chest feels tight and the tears are so hot running down his cheeks. He undresses and curls up in his bumpy bed, he feels like an idiot but he can’t help it. That night he cries himself to sleep.

 

The next morning has him waking up to a hangover, parched mouth and a headache that threatens to split his head in two.

 

_She's laying on his bed, sheets tangled somewhere near her feet, she's only wearing a pair of cotton underwear. Beth's smiling, smirking almost as he looks his fill, “See something you like, Mr. Dixon?”_

_He blushes because despite their relationship, he's never had anything like this, it's all new and he feels like a kindergarten boy with his first crush sometimes. But he never feels stupid or embarrassed really, mostly because Beth's there to soothe his worries, her clear, blue eyes never look at him in judgment and it makes him happy. He never imagined he would have something like this, and the thought of this ending, scares the shit outta him._

_Daryl leans over Beth, pushes her knees apart so he can rest between her legs. He braces his weight on his forearms and runs his nose across her collarbones, imprinting himself with her fresh scent. The smell of her, the taste of her, is burned into his memory for eternity, he's sure of it._

_It's a terrifying thought._

 

Daryl presses his palms against sleep-swollen eyes, and sits up in bed, he's not sure what time it is but he knows that Aaron won't give him shit for being late into work. The room is dark, smells like old pizza and stale cigarettes, it's fucking depressing is what it is, but this is his life and he better get used to it. He swings his legs over the bed and fights off a wave of dizziness as he stands, he walks half naked to the shoddy restroom and turns the shower head on. Daryl finishes undressing and steps into the tub, lets the water run over his scarred back, lets it soak his hair, he thinks of Beth and considers drowning himself, if only to erase the image of the beauty that has been burned into his retinas.

 

Daryl shakes his head, sprays water everywhere and steps out of the shower. He gets dressed and walks out of his apartment, there's no time for breakfast (even if that that usually consists of a bowl of cereal or a piece of toast) he lights a cigarette and makes his way to the car shop he works at.

 

Aaron’s outside, signing someone in when Daryl pulls up, he's gonna want an explanation even if he won't push for it. Aaron knows about Beth, one night he invited Daryl over to his place, made him dinner and introduced him to his boyfriend Eric, there had been booze and Aaron had been so nice and understanding; Daryl had just spilled his guts, sniffling back tears like an idiot.

 

He lets out a huge exhale when he sees the look on Aaron’s face, he looks worried, “You look like shit,” Aaron says as he walks towards Daryl, and he has to fight back a smirk because he really wasn't expecting that.

 

“I saw her last night,” Daryl says, as way of reason.

 

Aaron's eyes widen almost comically, “She-- you mean-”

 

Daryl nods, goes to the bed of the truck and takes some tools out.

 

“Beth?” Aaron finally says, he's never met her but for all Daryl’s told him about her he might as well have.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I don't wanna talk about it,” Daryl says, and his tone implicates the end of that discussion.

 

Aaron nods, and that's what he likes about the other man, he knows when to not fucking push, it's the only reason why Daryl's been his friend for so long. He pats Daryl on the shoulder and then walks back to his office inside the shop, leaving Daryl to work on a minivan that had been dropped off the day before.

 

The monotonous routine of fixing a car gives him a certain sense of peace, takes his mind off of things and assures the avoidance of certain subjects. Daryl remembers being fourteen and having Merle drag him outside to help with a broken old 1980 Sunbird, he’d merely been handing the older Dixon tools but even then it had made Daryl feel useful. Beth had told him once how good he was outdoors, that if a zombie apocalypse would ever happen that Daryl surely would be amongst the survivors, but he didn't think he was anything special. Hunting and living outdoors had just been something he’d had to learn at an early age, consequence of a dead mother and an abusive daddy.

  
Daryl quickly puts a stop to that train of thought, if he starts thinking about his old man or Beth he doesn't know where he’ll end up tonight. 


	2. her story unravels like a ribbon in the windy distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Daryl meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something not as angsty as the first chapter.

He meets her at the Waffle House. She's fiddling with the jukebox when he walks in, windswept and sweaty after riding his bike. She doesn't turn to look at him but _he_ looks at _her_ , and how can he not? When she looks like that. Long blonde hair and tight, tight jeans with a little t-shirt tied at the waist and cowboy boots; he also notices that she's young, really young and that has him averting his gaze quicker than anything. He goes to sit at the counter and it's merely by coincidence that his seat is directly across from her own, she's with a slightly older brunette, friends maybe.

 

Daryl orders a pecan waffle and coffee, while he’s waiting his eyes drift back to the pretty blonde. Her hair is in a ponytail, high up on her head, it makes her look like that fairy from the kids movie, he can see a braid weaved with bright colored string in her flaxen hair, and yep, she's definitely too young. The waitress brings his food and he tries not to look over at the girl, but it's almost impossible, she's like a bright beacon of light and he wonders if everyone in the place feels that way or it's just him.

 

Either way, all his not so covert glances must have her freaking out because all of a sudden the brunette she's with says something and the girl’s eyes are snapping to his. She looks serious and older with the gaze she pins on him, like she's trying to figure him out and it makes Daryl a little angry because he starts feeling embarrassed, pretty girls like that always mocked him in the past, called him trailer trash and turned their noses up at him.

 

He’s about to call her out on it, ask her what the hell she’s looking at but then she rises from her seat and saunters her way to him. Daryl stiffens, he fumbles for his wallet, bent on paying and getting the fuck out of there but the girl slides herself into the stool next to him.

 

“I’m Beth,” she says, smiling and then grinning when he says nothing in response, “I saw you looking at me.”

 

Daryl clears his throat uncomfortably, she hasn't insulted him so maybe she got freaked out by his creepy staring, “M’ sorry,” he mumbles.

 

“No, I didn't mean it like that,” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “what's your name?”

 

“Daryl,” he says warily.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she looks over his shoulder and frowns, “you got a phone?”

 

Daryl shakes his head and she sighs, “My sister’s in a hurry, so I gotta get going but--” she takes a napkin from the dispenser and a pen from the bag that’s slung over her shoulder and scribbles something, “here's my number, and I would really like it if you gave me a call sometime.”

 

Daryl stares at her with an intensity that he's sure she's not used to because her face turns red, a bright blush spreading all the way down her neck, which he finds oddly pleasing. This pretty, clean girl blushing because of him, “Alright,” he rasps and she smiles again, she slides off the stool and walks after her sister, looking back only once as he stares after her.

 

**

The napkin lies in his dirty jeans for days, he goes back and forth, trying to decide whether he should give the girl a call. He sees Merle once and his brother smacks him over the head, tells him he's dumb for not going after a willing piece of trim. But Daryl knows it ain't like that at all, Beth didn't seem like the type of girl you could spend one night with and then forget about the next day, that coupled with the fact that she looked very, very young was a disaster waiting to happen, even if she didn't seem too worried about it.

 

He gets drunk one night and blames it on the alcohol the next day when he realizes what he's done. He calls her near midnight, his voice slurring when he says his name.

 

“You gave me your number,” he huffs into the receiver.

 

“Yeah, I remember. I was beginning to think you were never gonna call.”

 

Daryl grunts and stays silent for a few seconds, he's never actually done this before but the whiskey made him brave, “You wanna grab a drink this Friday?”

 

She giggles and he feels a little lightheaded when he hears the noise, “I’m not twenty-one yet,” she responds.

 

He curses and tries to wrack his brain for something else but he can't come up with a damn thing. Daryl's about to hang up when Beth speaks.

 

“We can go watch a movie, maybe go get ice cream after?”

 

Daryl's speechless for what feels like an eternity, he's never been on a date, is it a date? How can you tell? Does he have to pick her up at her house?

 

“Daryl?”

 

He clears his throat and without thinking about it, says yes. Beth rattles off a place where they should meet up and Daryl almost falls flat on his face when he rises from his bed for a pen and paper. She gives him a time and place and Daryl agrees, he's too drunk to say no.

 

That very Friday Daryl meets Beth and they end up watching an action movie because she says that her brother said it was good. He buys her popcorn and her hand brushes his while they're in the darkened theater, he looks at her from the corner of his eye but she's looking straight ahead at the movie screen. It's all very bizarre and Daryl feels like he’s in some sort of parallel universe. They go for ice cream and Beth tells him all about herself, how she graduated high school in the summer but she's taking a year off before she goes to college and that's why she's living with her sister in Atlanta.

 

Daryl doesn't tell her much about himself because the things about him aren't things you can speak of in polite company. But she doesn't seem to mind, she looks genuinely interested when he tells her about his sad, boring life, she smiles when he talks about Merle and Daryl thinks that maybe this girl is different because anyone else would be horrified at his Merle stories.

 

Three months later and they're living together.

 

It's too soon, they both know it but they're like magnets being pulled closer and closer until they can't part from each other. It's exciting and Daryl doesn't even care when Merle shows up to help Beth move into his place.

 

“So, this the little piece that got my baby brother all twisted up?” Merle rasps, his voice taunting and Daryl almost tells him to shut up but Beth juts her hip and crosses her arms across her chest.

 

“And you must be Merle,” she says, all full of sass.  

 

“The one and only,” Merle responds, his hand goes down to his crotch and he adjusts himself crudely, “If you're lucky, you might make my acquaintance.”

 

Beth raises an eyebrow, “I bet it shoots blanks,” she tells him, and Daryl’s hands start getting sweaty because he doesn't want to throw Merle out on his ass but he will if he starts some shit.

 

But then he's taken completely by surprise when Merle’s expression quickly turns to shock, then amusement, he lets out a huge cackle and claps Daryl on the shoulder. “I like her!” he says, and Daryl feels a little pride when he hears those words, Merle ain't his daddy and most of the time he’s a simple minded fool but he's still kin and his approval means something to Daryl.

 

The day goes smoothly and Daryl packs all of Beth’s things in his truck and drives from her sister’s apartment to his own. Maggie isn’t too happy when Beth breaks the news that she’s moving out but she quickly points out that Maggie has been living with her own boyfriend for almost two years already. Daryl never asks about her parents, he figures that she’ll tell him about them whenever she wants, it’s not like he’s too eager to compare parenting stories anyways; but one night Daryl takes her to a lake outside of Atlanta and Beth tells him everything. She cries when she tells him how she got the scar on her wrist, her mother had been very sick but her father had made them believe that she was fine, that she was getting better, so when she died, Beth couldn’t take it.

 

“But I’m strong, I won’t let something like that happen again,” she says. And Daryl nods because he knows this woman is strong, more than him, girl’s got backbone like he’s never seen on anybody else.

 

She tells him how her father, Hershel, had been having heart problems and Maggie and herself and her brother Shawn had known that his time was coming, they could feel it. “It was quiet,” she tells him, “he was surrounded by people he loved and it was peaceful.”

 

Daryl’s never known peaceful, his own mother died in a fire and his daddy crashed his pickup coming out piss drunk out of a bar one night. The police had contacted him and he’d had to go down to the morgue to identify the body, but by that point in time Daryl had felt nothing, numb to the person that lay on the steel table. He can’t relate but he can understand and he knows it means a lot to her when she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and smiles, a wide, shit-eating grin that makes her look a little crazy but he loves her. That night they sleep in the bed of his truck, it’s a little chilly so they wrap themselves in blankets and Daryl’s poncho, she lays on her side and he curls himself around her, making sure he touches as much of her body as he can.

 

They sleep under the stars and the moonlight is so bright it illuminates her pretty skin, pale and almost blue under the starlight, he thinks with great affection that she’s all his. A little piece of heaven sent down just for him, he falls asleep smiling and never wanting that night to end.

 

And that’s how it goes for a long while. Daryl takes odd jobs here and there, and Beth alternates between working at a daycare and a diner, sometimes he feels like shit for not being a rich man and treating her to everything that she deserves but Beth always shuts down that train of thought. And really, she doesn’t have to say much because she’s always laughing and smiling and looking at him like he invented all her favorite things. In the beginning that sort of adoration made Daryl uncomfortable, he’d never seen it before and didn’t know how to respond, but just being with Beth made him brave in that regard. It made him bold with his actions and little by little he just became more open with her, he had no reason to fear humiliation and it was like jumping from a mountaintop and knowing that the landing would be smooth sailing.

 

One night Daryl’s startled by the sound of crashing furniture in the living room, he rises from the bed and is horrified at Beth not being by his side. He pulls a hunting knife from the bedside drawer and creeps his way towards the living room, but somewhere near the end of the hallway Beth’s soothing voice stops him in his tracks. She’s speaking softly and when he hears Merle’s voice he relaxes, he peers from around the hall to the dimly lit kitchen, and the sight that greets him should make him feel mad even jealous but it doesn’t, not even a little.

 

Merle’s sat in the kitchen table, body slumped on a plastic chair, Beth standing next to him. Her delicate fingers holding his head up to her chest, she’s murmuring words that Daryl can’t quite hear but what startles him the most is the sight of Merle crying. Not big, heaving sobs but muted cries that leave his shoulders shaking, with Beth telling him that it’s okay.

“You’ll be alright,” Beth says, she strokes the back of Merle’s head and he takes a big, watery inhale, “You’re a good man.”

 

Merle curses and wipes his face with the back of his hand and before they discover Daryl, he’s turning back to their room. He lays back in the bed and stares at the ceiling, he can hear Beth cluttering around in the kitchen and he can guess that she's making Merle something to eat, something to get the drunk out of his system. He thinks of the way Beth was touching him, so softly and sweetly and something in his chest tightens because he thinks that she looked like a mother and Merle like a child.

 

Just as he’s falling asleep he thinks of what a good mother Beth would make, he thinks of little Dixons running around, little babies with dark hair and big, blue eyes like their momma. He lets himself relish in the fantasy, picnics and days at the state fair, so happy and without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  
But then he remembers that he doesn't know how to be like that, no one ever taught him and it sparks a gnawing sensation in the back of his mind; that desperate feeling that he's never going to be good enough. 


	3. lay your dead flowers, all in a row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes love isn’t enough.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s inevitable, the end of them. If Daryl’s being truthful, their demise started the moment she climbed the back of his motorcycle and he took her back to his place for the first time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The worst part of their breakup though was the fact that Daryl saw it coming a mile away. He knew it the instant that he met her friends that he didn’t belong. Hell, he knew it when he met her family. He’d always been trash and it was high time Beth realized it too.

They’re in the kitchen, Daryl sitting at the little wooden table Beth bought second hand, while she stands next to the stove when she suddenly turns, a glint in her eyes.

“We should get married,” she says, a grin on her face.

It takes Daryl a second to even think of a response because she just has to be joking. They had never really talked about it; Daryl figured that Beth would grow tired of him sooner or later so there was no reason to even think about marriage.

“What?”

“We should get married!” she says, sounding even more excited.

The thought of her dressed in white, looking so beautiful and happy and young, Christ, she’s _young_. Daryl was _nineteen_ the year Beth was born, he was a full grown man by that time, had been living on his own for three years, and Beth? She hasn’t hardly lived a life of her own. Something tightens in Daryl’s chest, he can’t keep doing this to her. He’s taken too much already.

“No,” he tells her, and the smile drops from her face, he’s dead fucking serious and she can tell.

“I'm not asking you to have babies with me, Daryl!" she says, exasperated, “We’ve been together awhile now, it doesn’t even have to be anything fancy.

"Yeah, but you will though right?" he asks, standing from his place at the table, he begins pacing the floor of their little kitchen, "you're gonna want that one day."

Beth sighs and puts her cup of tea down on the counter, "So what if I've thought about it?"

Daryl stills, he _can't_ do this. He can't keep living this lie, pretending to be someone he isn't, it makes him feel like clawing out of his own skin. "I can't do this," he murmurs, he chews on his lip till he feels blood on his tongue.

"What?"

Daryl looks at Beth, in her pristine sundress, with her pretty blonde hair and all he feels is guilt. He's ruining this girl, has been since he first laid hands on her, he's a piece of shit and he needs to get rid of her.

"I can't do this anymore," he says, lowly and terrifyingly calm.

"Do what?"

"Be with you."

Beth's face distorts in confusion and she opens and closes her mouth a couple of times; he’s blindsided her but it's for her own good.

"What are you saying?"

"You need to go," he says and her face crumbles because she’s young and this will be her first heartbreak, he wants to take it back but he won't because she deserves better and Daryl’s never been the selfish type.

Beth clenches her jaw, straightens her spine and he's ready for whatever she wants to say to him, _punish me_ , he wants to say. "You can't do this," she tells him, "you can't phush me out just because you're scared."

Those words ignite something in him, an anger that he'd thought had been extinguished by Beth but apparently not. "I ain't scared," he hisses.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I ain't the man you think I am."

Beth shakes her head, she tries to grab hold of his hand but he steps back, "You're wrong, Daryl, for god's sake, we're _living_ together."

He stares at her and wills her to stop, she can't afford to change his mind. She needs to get out while she still can.

"I just want to be with you, don't you get it?" she asks, her eyes filling with tears.

"You deserve better."

“Please, don’t do this, we can work it out,” she tells him, but doesn’t she understand that in the end she’s the one that will live her life, she’s the one that will find a good man that will make her a decent husband. She’s the one that will win.

“I ain’t shit, Beth, never was.”

Beth blinks and tears make their way down her cheeks, her lip trembles, and her voice shakes, "Is that what you think?"

Daryl can't even look at her anymore, "It's what I know."

Beth lets out a sob and Daryl shakes with the force that is taking for him to not go to her, to not wrap her up in his arms and beg forgiveness.

She takes a shaky breath and he hears her boots coming closer and stiffens, "I love you, Daryl Dixon," she says, softly. He can feel her eyes on him but Christ, looking at her would just be a work in self flagellation.

And then just like that, she walks out of his life.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He wakes up in a pool of his own piss, not that he cares much because he’s still shit faced but he can smell it and he’d rather not. But it doesn’t matter does it, what the fuck does he have going in his life nowadays, cheap whiskey in shitty bars, Daryl would rather sleep it off.

The sound of the front door opening startles him and for just a second he lets himself hope but he feels like an asshole when it’s Merle standing at the doorway instead, he can’t really make out his face but Daryl can only imagine the scowl on the other man’s face. “Christ!” he curses, “You’re a fucking mess,” Merle tells him.

He saunters over and drags Daryl to his feet, starts pushing him towards the bathroom, “Leave me alone,” Daryl slurs.

“Can't do that, baby brother” Merle grunts as he pulls Daryl into the tub, “I ain’t gonna watch you off yourself like our daddy did.”

He reaches over and turns on the shower head, Daryl chokes and shouts when the cold water starts pelting his face. “What the fuck?” he glares at Merle, and Merle glares right back.

“It’s your fault Blondie left, so either nut up or shut the fuck up,” he says and leaves a fully clothed Daryl sitting in the bathtub.

He’s right, Merle was always right.

The first month without her was hell.

At one point Daryl thought he was about to die, he thinks his heart might just give out and he’s going to cease existing. But it never happens, cruel destiny just forces him to live with his own misery, reliving that day over and over like some fucked up version of groundhog day. He feels like a zombie, he walks around, he eats because he has to, but everything else is on autopilot. The day after they broke up Beth sent Maggie to get her things, taking with her every single reminder that She once shared his home. Maggie doesn't shout at him like he expects her to, she doesn't say much of anything as she cleans out his apartment, just leaves Daryl sitting on his couch, clenching his fists in anger.

Two months later he hears that Beth has gone to live in California. It gnaws at him, the thought of her so far away, but it’d been his decision after all. He's a fucking asshole and it's what he deserves for the way he treated her at the end, Christ, he wishes he could take it back. He’d crawl on his knees through broken glass if it meant he could take back everything he said, she was a forgiving girl, surely she would come back if he asked nicely.

There's a harsh knock on the door and Daryl startles, “You still alive in there?” Merle asks.

“Yeah,” Daryl responds, getting up to shed his wet clothes. He turns the shower head on and waits till the water temperature is nearly scorching hot before he steps into the tub once again.

When he's done, Merle's waiting for him in the living room, a box of rapidly cooling pizza on the coffee table. “Y’aright?” Merle asks, and the question is so out of character that Daryl can only blink and stare at his older brother.

Merle snarls when he doesn't receive a quick answer, “What? She took your brains too? The fuck were you doing lying in your own piss for?”

Daryl chews on his thumbnail, “Must’a passed out,” he shrugs.

Merle lets out a snort, “Jesus,” he says, shaking his head, “she did a number on you, baby brother.”

Daryl huffs out a laugh, if he only knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, it’s been AWHILE to say the least. Life happened and I lost the love I once held for these characters but slowly it’s been coming back.


End file.
